


If Only For a Night

by AshToSilver



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshToSilver/pseuds/AshToSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has been starting fights since he was eight years old and still washing his hands in the middle of the night four times a week, trying to remove blood that wasn't really there.</p>
<p>(But this isn't a fight)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only For a Night

**Author's Note:**

> **skullprins requested:** _Bruce and Jack about 14 years old building a hut/treehouse together and maybe a first kiss? ;)_
> 
> I didn't realize I've done like, 3/6 prompts for kid!Joker/Bruce, I'm sorry, I promise to branch out more.
> 
> I started a batjokes chatroom and I'm going to be running it at least all month, so you can join us here: <https://www.chatzy.com/48347760913543>.
> 
> This is a part of my June daily prompts challenge - for the month of June, I will be accepting simple batjokes prompts from people. If you'd like me to write one of your prompts, you can comment below with any ideas you have. There's more info [here](http://alexfics.tumblr.com/post/145111053242/accepting-batjokes-prompts) if you want, and all prompts will be posted on AO3 under this series.

As friends go, Jack isn’t exactly a good one.

He’s rude and cruel in his own way - Bruce has dragged the smaller boy from more fights then he’s started himself.

(Which is saying something; Bruce has been starting fights since he was eight years old and still washing his hands in the middle of the night four times a week, trying to remove blood that wasn't really there. He’s got a reputation by fourteen, which is why he’s here, at a school outside of Gotham for _troubled_ _teenagers_.

Which is probably just Alfred’s way of taking a vacation, or maybe giving Bruce some targets that really deserve getting knocked down a peg or two, but Bruce can’t complain. It’s like camp, but with less rich brats and more pushups, just the way Bruce likes it.)

But Jack. Jack was either here on some school’s scholarship or perhaps a state fund, Bruce wasn’t sure of the details. Either way, Jack had hit him the first night he’d got here, then followed that attack with one against the largest kid at the school.

Which had ended with both of them sitting in detention with suspended privileges. Getting beat up by sixteen-year-olds was quite the bonding experience for twelve-year olds with no friends.

_We have a connection_ , Jack had drawled, swiping enough blood off his own face to tie-dye a t-shirt.

Connection or suspension of common sense, Bruce liked having a friend, even if it was one just as likely to drag Bruce into trouble as his own busted sense of morality was. It worked for them, though, and neither felt the need to complain.

Perhaps it was because of nights like this.

“Shh,” hissed Jack, gesturing for Bruce to follow him as they snuck around the dormitories’ perimeter.

“I didn’t say anything,” Bruce hissed back, scowling at Jack’s answering smirk. “You’re going the wrong way.”

Jack pointed at the corner, where the faint glow of a distant flashlight showed that security had changed their routine yet again, perhaps to combat the fact that they did this on an almost nightly basis. “Got a better idea, Brucie?”

Bruce smirked in the dark.

Neither Jack or Bruce enjoyed being at the school. It was better than the alternatives, but being constantly surrounded by people wasn’t exactly what either of them had in mind for favourite pastime. So shortly after they’d met, they’d begun to look for places to escape for a bit. A place where they could relax and stop worrying about if the people here were about to turn on them.

Two years later and they’d built _this_.

Deep in the forest surrounding the school, they’d discovered a small cave system, and they’d spent months collecting wood, dumpster diving and trading whatever they had to fill it up and create their own space. It was a bit cold, damp at times and dirt-filled almost always, but there was enough space for two teenagers to curl up and store whatever they didn’t want the supervisors to find.

They’d spent weeks slowly hiding some shelving units administration had written off, moving it around the school until people stopped looking for it, and now they’d finally decided everyone had forgotten about it enough that they could take it to the hideout. It took a fair amount of strength to maneuver around, and more stealth than usual to get it all the way out to the forest without anyone noticing, but they managed, taking breaks to catch their breath and hide from anyone who may have been patrolling in the area.

Getting the shelves in question into the hideout was another matter that wasted another hour or two, as they argued about position and location, rearranging things like a three-legged table and a torn-up futon to make room and then squabbling about it before shifting things around again. At one point, Bruce found himself half-way up the wall, using a hammer they’d found in the contraband locker to pull out nails and rearrange some of the supports to fit one shelf in a corner.

Jack spent that twenty-minutes sitting on the floor and directing Bruce’s work with the annoying air of a backseat driver.

It was almost one in the morning by the time they’d finished putting everything in its place, and they celebrated by collapsing on the old rug once they’d rolled it back in place.

“Never again,” Bruce wheezed, “I think we’ve got anything we need now.”

“But what about that dead fridge in that abandoned classroom?” Jack asked innocently, laughing with his usual glee as Bruce punched him in the arm for the comment. “Okay, okay, no more furniture! Not unless we find anything good.”

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed, staring up at the rock ceiling. “This is good.” It was, a nice mixture of comfortable and safe, well hidden enough that it wasn’t in easy danger of being found. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Pff.” Jack waved a lazy hand, laying beside Bruce, just close enough to touch. “No thanks needed, amigo. What are friends for?”

Bruce smiled to himself.

There was a faint noise was Jay struggled to roll over for a moment, before he propped himself up on his elbows, looking down on Bruce with an oddly interested expression.

“What?” Bruce asked, shoving aside the thought that suggested he should grab Jack and hold on.

There was a brief pause, before Jack whispered, “got something on your face, Brucie,” and leaned forward to plant a quick kiss against Bruce’s cheek.

It was fast enough that Bruce barely registered that it had happened at all, and the look of shock on his face must have made Jack pull back.

“Er, forget that, I’m just tired-” Jack’s face was starting to crumble as Bruce didn’t react, “haha, don’t mind me.”

“Don’t think you got it,” Bruce said mildly and with more warmth in his tone then he meant to use. “Better try again.”

The smile Jack gave him was nothing short of pure delight.


End file.
